


Human

by Jac_Danvers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jac_Danvers/pseuds/Jac_Danvers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was as human as he. And it made him love her more. Viktor finds love in the aftermath of the war. A drabble originally written for a challenge on FanFiction.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Human

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

" _Magnifique_ ," she cooed in the dark as he rolled off her, spent yet still desolate, fulfilled yet empty. Seeking comfort among strangers, they found each other, mourning in silence for a temporary ally. While his family and friends wept, they prepared for a war that would inevitably draw them into its midst, into uncertainty, into their utter demise.

And he fancied himself a little in love with her, but what man wouldn't? She was inhumanly beautiful, and good, and pure. Despite his worldwide fame, he was in shock she came to him. Competitors, yes, but friends, no. Yet here they were: acquaintances in desperate need of something real.

They were real.

So he whispered, " _Mer-ci ma co-pine_ ," in stilted French, and she laughed haughtily at his words, because he mangled her beautiful language. Because the words weren't true and they both knew it. There were true loves waiting, to be met, to be realized. But they knew it wasn't each other.

Yet for a moment, it was.

OOO

Once upon a time he was a teenage heartthrob, flitting across the poster-covered walls of every hormonal Bulgarian teenager. But the war trumped plans, and injuries trumped goals. A few brief words took his career, his fame, his reason for existence. The face of a new sharp-eyed, strong-jawed hero decorated the walls of the Quidditch fanatics while Viktor's joined the ranks of the heroes on the front page of the Daily Prophet, cleaning up what was left of a castle he briefly called home. Cleaning up what was left of their war-torn lives.

OOO

When she sighed "Magnifique" into his shoulder, her mussed strawberry blonde hair spread across his chest, he was hit with a vague sense of déjà vu. A gut instinct that this was wrong (in more ways than one) and a heart that screamed at him to ignore his gut. His hair was graying, his shoulder irrevocably damaged from a curse, and his personality more serious and stoic now that he was a coach. And she was his star (in more ways than one), twenty-five, the daughter of his friend and once lover.

And he loved her.

He knew the risks, if they were discovered. The accusations of favoritism and the loss of his job. The rumors in the gossip rags that he was using her because her mother's heart belonged to the scarred curse breaker instead of the damaged Seeker. The certain bilingual death threats from a pair of angry parents, and even angrier grandparents. Viktor didn't care. She brought him joy- joy that had been absent for far too long- and he'd go back through hell all over again to give her the same.

So he whispered " _Je t’aime, ma che-rie_ " in stilted French in the darkness, and willing accepted his reward of light giggles. Because despite having been raised to speak both French and English, Victoire had never quite been able to emulate her mother's impeccable, authentic accent.

And when she responded with the same words in stilted Bulgarian as she climbed above him and curtained their faces from the candlelight with the lengths of her hair, he found he couldn't laugh at her stilted Bulgarian in return.

She was as human as he. And it only made him love her more.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism and feedback is greatly appreciated! -Jac


End file.
